


Assumptions and What they Cause

by EchosOfTheEnd



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Arckniss is named Alessio in life, Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Issues, Death but not because its hell, Demons, Drug Use, Emotional Constipation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Issues, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Might get a little intense, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Overdosing, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Sexual Abuse, Prositution, Public Sex, Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, angel dust needs a hug, henroin sucks, valentino sucks, withdrawl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchosOfTheEnd/pseuds/EchosOfTheEnd
Summary: A whore isn't all that makes a man.Like hell angels gonna tell anyone that though.Angel's always relied on people coming up with assumptions about him to hide what he was ashamed of about himself... Its a little weird being on the other end of the assumption making.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 336





	1. The Start of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grotesque (Grotesque_Flower)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grotesque_Flower/gifts).



Angel jumped with a start as hands slammed down on either side of him. He was in Valentino’s office. Sat up on his desk like the trophy whore he was supposed to be. Lower set of hands between his legs to accentuate his fluffed up chest as the top set rested behind him to support his weight. Perfectly still, just like he was told. 

Normally Angel would be one to move around and disobey. Give his own little show to the whole office filled with whores, sluts, and the like. But today, Angel was alone. Because today, 

Angel was in trouble.

Snapping back to the reality in front of him, Angel looked up to Valentino, barely even daring to do that until a hand roughly grabbed him by the chin. “Now, you’re gonna be a good boy for your Daddy right, Angie?” 

Angel gave a delicate nod, doing his damndest not to jostle the hand that held him. “Yes Daddy, I’ll be good.” He hated this. Being forced to stay still and do as he’s told, lest ‘Daddy’ take out a harsher punishment on him than a few extra hours with some rougher clients. He got enough bullshit like this when was alive. Course he had to go and fall into another man’s less than gentle control over him. 

Val gave him a soft pap to the cheek, “There’s my good boy.” Angel was given barely a second to relax before there was harsh _smack_ that filled the room, and Angel tasted the bitter swell of copper in his mouth. “But, I dont think you’ve really learned your lesson about this. now have you…” The pimp took a moment to himself to think, before a slimy grin crossed over his face. 

He hated that grin more than anything in the Nine Circles.

A hand roughly grabbed him by the cheeks again, forcing him to be face to face with that disgusting snarl. “You’re gonna go on down to that dressing room of yours, you’re gonna put on somethin' real nice, and you’re gonna be on my arm for the night. Got that?” his grin twisted as he pulled Angel that much closer to him. “And I dont give a shit _who’s_ lookin'. You’re gonna do exactly as I tell you to. Got it?” 

Angel suppressed a sigh as he nodded, “Yes Daddy.” With that, he was free to leave, left with a half hour window to get ready. That asshole. That was hardly enough time to really get ready. He’d barely gotten any time to shower through the multiple shoots he’d had that day. The spider let out the frustrated sigh he'd been holding in as he got into his dressing room. It was just a night out with Val. He’d go out, dance a little, probably give him a private show, and then he’d be free to head back to the hotel and cuddle up with his pig and forget the damn day even happened. 

Angel sat down at his vanity and began to get ready for the night as the event that led to all of this ran on repeat through his head…

~~X

Angel was in the middle of some scene with a john going by Jamille or something like that. He couldn't be bothered to remember. What he was bothered with, was that this guy was one of the lamest jobs he’s had to screw with in a long time. So he did what he did best. He faked it. Forming up his own fantasy as it came time for the climax of the scene.

Clawed, gloved hands running up his sides…

The soft prickle of static against his fur….

A tinny voice in his ear…’Oh Angel~’ 

“ah- ah- _Alastor~_ ”

“CUT!” Fuck. Oh fuck. did he just..? 

“Angel what the fuck was that? That's not the name you’re supposed to be calling out! We’ve gotta redo the whole fucking scene now.” The set crew and his scene partner all went about their jobs and ways as Angel got up on shaky legs. There's no way this wasn't getting back to Val.. 

\--

An hour later found him in Val’s office, settled comfortably on his lap. Battling the discomfort roiling within him. “Now Angie baby..You wanna tell me what that little fuck up was about?” 

“S nothin Val...the john was borin me half ta death so I had ta improvise...Got a little carried away s’ all…” He could tell already by the look on Val's face. He wasn’t buying that for a second. “You with him Angie? This little Alastor make you feel all warm inside?” Angel felt his blood run cold. He knew this dance. 

“Don't you know he’s just gonna leave you baby? He aint your first like this...He’s not gonna be the last.” Val ran a gentle hand over his cheek, “How many times do I gotta tell you to just give up on tryin' to find some gentleman to sweep you off your feet.” The grip turned vicious as Val pulled him close. “No man wants 10 million other guy's sloppy seconds. No matter how pretty you doll yourself up.” Angel held in a yelp as he was tossed to the side of the couch, “Dont think I don’t know that name Angel. You belong to _me_ , so of all the damn guys you wanna get hot with, that vintage trash had better be the last." He growled "Go sit on the desk, and behave.” 

~~X

Angel suppressed a shiver as he finished brushing out the last of the dust from his fur, sleazy prick. “Bein' a pimp you’d think he’d know when somethin' like that's one sided…” he mumbled, getting out the make-up he needed. He’d decided to go with a glammed up version of himself, a sleek, simple dress and a husband killer robe to match, seeing as Val didn't give him enough time to properly dress up. Probably his intention to make it ‘part of the punishment’ not allowing Angel to look his best, not that it really mattered. 

It wasn’t like anyone important would be seeing him out tonight anyway.


	2. Punishments aren't meant to be easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel realizes there was more to this punishment then val let on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this fic is made by the wonderful http://spider-provider.tumblr.com ! You should check em out!

Angel couldn’t help but be confused as Val's limo stopped in front of one of the classier joints on the south side of Pentagram City. He waited patiently as Val stepped out of the vehicle, holding his arm out to let the other pull him up and out onto the street in front of the club. “Dante’s Inferno, huh? I’m surprised you’re paradin’ me round here Daddy, thought this wasn’t really your scene..”

Valentino barely spared him a glance as he pulled him towards the entrance of the club, causing his satin-y robe to flow out around his heels with a flourish. “You’re eye candy Angie. Shut up and act like it.” With a purposefully dramatic sigh, Angel draped himself over the Overlord’s arm, cuddling up to his side while they found their way into the club and to a table near the back, watching as the live, modest music played onstage. 

The patrons of the club were all well dressed, modest but classy. Though there were other outliers like Valentino and himself. Mostly Downtowners that stumbled into a new spot to check out the feel of the place. Feeling a pull at his waist, Angel took that as his cue to settle himself onto Valentino, his legs on either side of the pimp’s lap, head resting against Val’s chest, looking out over the club to watch the patrons mingle. He was only granted a couple moments of looking around before Val put him back to work, showering his owner in silent attention as the crowd around him stared curiously. 

Angel let himself get lost in the motions, and the music, the soft jazz helping him swing his hips lazily. After what felt like hours to the arachnid, he felt Val’s long fingers spread out over his chest, pushing him into a slow, sensual backbend on the Overlord's lap, finally allowing him another clear look into the audience around him. Scanning the crowd, his eyes landed on a familiar red silhouette. 

No. No it couldn’t be- “I didn’t tell you to stop.” 

Angel forced himself to relax as he continued his slow grind into Valentinos lap. Eyes locked with the form on the other side of the room. Chanting silently to himself, _please don't turn around. Please don't turn around…_ Several tense moments passed before, as if by command, the demon across the room turned around. As staticky red met mismatched pink, Angel felt any measly chance he might have had of gaining the Radio Demon’s affection slip between the cracks in the wood floor below him. 

_Light came up through the slats of the dingy motel room’s floor from the office below, illuminating Angelo as he sat in the lap of some John he didn’t have the time to learn the name of. Lips locked and bodies craving whatever carnal pleasure they could get. Angelo knew this was wrong. He knew that if anyone found out about this, he'd be dead. But as it was, drugs running through his system and this no-name john rubbing him in just the right way, he couldn’t find it in himself to care._

_Until the gunshot that rang through the dingy motel room ruined the moment._

_Alessio stood in the doorway of the room, gun raised and a scowl etched deep into his face. Angelo, high as a kite, barely bothered to even turn to face his brother, opting instead to lay back on the bed, staring up at his now rather upside-down brother._

_“Angelo...You know what’s gonna happen to you when pops finds out.”_

_“Who said anythin’ about pops findin’ out huh? What happened to me havin’ the damn night to myself anyway?” He sat up, finally climbing off of the body below him to stand shakily before his brother. “The hell are you even doin’ here?”_

_Alessio sighed as he lowered the gun, holstering it in his belt. “A last minute job came up. Pops wants us both on scene for this one...and you know how he gets when you bail Angelo..” The elder brother shifted from foot to foot, before letting out a quick, decisive puff of air. “If you keep this quiet. I wont say nothin, but we both know the moment my ass is on the line, I’m out. Got it? I’m not losing my place here just because you decided to be a fag.”_

_Angelo rolled his eyes he shook himself past the haze of his high as best he could. “Yeah yeah whatever. You’ve never taken a bullet for me before, I ain’t expectin ya to start now.” The young mobster glanced at himself in the dingy mirror, watching as brown, curly hair and tanned italian skin melted away into_

Alastor. At the other end of the club, staring him down with an unidentifiable look in his eyes. Angel was snapped out of his redolent memory by Val roughly dragging him up and undoing his belt. “This place is pretty classy Val, maybe we shouldn’t-” 

“What the fuck did I tell you earlier?” 

“It don’t matter who’s lookin’...” Angel pouted,

“There’s my good boy. Now don’t make me tell you to **shut up** again.” Angel resigned himself to the situation as he positioned himself over Val. Sinking down onto the other man with a quiet “Ahh~” he thanked whatever power that was in his favor that he’d been prepped by the shoot earlier, making the strain of the rather improvised session that much more bearable. 

Valentino leaned back as Angel began a lazy grind onto the Overlord’s cock. He couldn’t bring himself to glance over his shoulder. Not wanting to see the surely disgusted look in those red eyes watching him. Degrading him without even needing to utter a word. He held his breath for a moment before forcing himself sink into his role. This wasn’t Angel, ex mob, doing what it takes to get by, lover of his pig and the few good people in his life.

This was Angel Dust; the whore, and that’s where the list ends.

Angel let his head tip back, closing his eyes and pretending he could feel the sensation of his usual highs running through his veins. When he finally slipped away enough to glance coyly around at the other guests in the club, he didn’t bother to notice a missing shade of red. 

Two hours later found Angel on his way back to the hotel. Sore, with his feet feeling heavier than lead, he dreaded having to go back and run the risk of running into Alastor after that whole mess. His head was pounding from the constant streams of worried thoughts that filled his head. Until a nearby vending machine caught his attention. 

Going back to the hotel could wait.


	3. Dance with the devil, and you'll pay your dues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel tries to forget his demons. But his demons wont forget him.

Street signs all looked the same, the ground seemed to be moving in a never ending vortex around him. Swishing and swirling into a maze of pathways, each one as disorienting as the last. Looking around did nothing but agitate the spiraling reality around him. The only thought he could process clearly was that he had no fucking clue where he was. 

Where was he going again? The bathroom… He needed the bathroom. The music and club goers were deafeningly loud and the lights were hurting his eyes as the room turned pitch black around him in the miasma coating his mind. He needed a break from the suffocating noise and smoke of the club he was in. 

Wasn’t he just outside? It doesn’t matter. He needs to rinse his face. Get the smell of acid laced powder out of his fur and eyes if only for a moment. Where are the sinks. _Where are the fucking sinks…_ Why are they so far away? He was so far away but he needed them _now._

Why was it so hard to breathe? 

Angel stumbled into one of the dingy bathroom sinks, his body crumpled against the granite surface. His vision swam with the amount of… _everything_ he’d taken. His body held a dull ache, fingers gone slightly numb as he shivered, head hung over the sink before him, trying to calm his screaming lungs and stomach. It felt as though something had taken root in his core, and was now violently trying to escape him. At the angle the spider’s head hung he just barely made out a spot of red on his thigh. Blood or wine he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he raised his head to look at himself in the mirror. 

What stared back at him struck a carnal sense of fear straight into his very soul.

Eight eyes stared back at him. The three on the left a dull grey that brought back memories of what it meant to be a man. The three on the right a familiar red that told him of what it meant to not be a disappointment. The two dial shaped irises that bore into his own reminded him of the love he knew he didn’t deserve. 

Mottled skin made way for a cutting, static filled grin, black wisps flowing out between clenched teeth. The familiar mop of curly brown hair did nothing more than add to the unsettling visage in front of him. Three pairs of bone thin arms sprouted from the thing’s torso. Gripping onto the edges of mirror, as if holding itself in place. 

Angel could barely bring himself to notice the swirling shadows behind the figure. It’s toothy grin dripping with a sickly pink hue, heart shaped eyes never leaving his form. His stomach churned as every fiber of his being told him _run. Get as far away as you can._

He stayed put. No matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move. Even as his body was wracked with shivers and his knees threatened to buckle he couldn’t move away.

His breath caught in his throat as the thing began to _speak._

“Angel… Look at you...You’re pathetic.” The reflection hissed, too many voices meshing into one. The pitches all varying levels of _wrong._ “You can barely even stand up straight in some bottom shelf, whore house bathroom and you think you have enough ground under your feet to try and face me?” Angel swore the reflection leaned out of the mirror as it continued on, “you don’t even deserve to be thrown around by that heart wearing _freak_ who owns you. People are going to get bored you know…”

Angel looked to the water in the sink. Finally able to force himself to look away, the sight too much to bear. He didn’t remember turning the faucet on, but that detail paled in comparison to the figure staring up at him from the water. “You won’t be enough to keep them around. Your fans will move on. Charlie will move on. She’ll realize what a lost cause you are…How broken you are...”

The Beast rose up from the sink as the ground beneath Angel was ripped away. The spider barely had time to catch sight of the ceiling before Alastor slammed him into one of the bathroom stall doors. Breath cold against his cheek as the Overlord spoke.

“And I’m going to laugh. Every time I see you fail. You’ll be so entertaining to me. If for that one moment, watching you try to pick yourself up again, only to stumble back down into the pits of your own demise.” 

Angel threw his hands over his ears, tears streaming down his face, but his brother’s voice carried through. “You can’t escape what you are, Angelo. A useless little harlot who wasn’t even good enough for his own family!” 

Angel swung out wildly, only to find his hands suddenly unable to move. His wrists pinned to the door above him and to the side by the shadow he’d seen before. “Angie baby this is your own fault. You caused this you know...Being a whore is all you’ll ever be. Why do you try to fight it so much, huh?” A disgusted shiver ran down his spine as he felt a wet sensation on his cheek. “Just stay with your Daddy.” 

“You really think you could get away from me didn’t you Angelo? Think you could RUN AWAY?” Angel yelped as he was slammed back into the door again, eyes wide in shock as he stared into his father’s eyes,

“Pops..Pops please I didn’t-”

“ _ **SHUT UP**_ I don’t give a fuck what your whore mouth as to say anymore. You lost this family the moment you stepped outta line.” Angel gasped as he was suddenly falling, sinking into an inky abyss that seemed to have no end. Until suddenly he was leaning over himself. Only, He was looking up into his own familiar brown eyes.

“C’mon, Dust. I know they’re all right...I don’t deserve to have anythin’ that I got.” How long has it been since he’s seen his own, human face? He trembled beneath himself, throat caught up with the words he wished he could say. “Don’t try fightin it no more...Just sober up. Forget that stupid hotel, and go back to Val…”

His vision started to go black for good this time, barely catching onto the last thing the Beast above him said…

“It's͎͛̇ͅ ̳̄w̹͇ͭͨḣ͈̥͈̀̍er̦ͅe ̱̬͕̃͌̆y̬̯͂ͤou͇̮̙͐́ͥ ͚͖̫̆̐̈́b͙̠͌̂̈ͅe̤̞͓ḷ͎̇̑õ̖n̟g̅ ͕̫̻i̞̰̥͂̏̌s̼ͅn̜ͅ'̝̣̙ͨ̾́ṱ́ ͔̩ͥͦit?”


	4. The truth comes out in riddles that are safe enough to share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Alastor "talk" 
> 
> Or well, Alastor talks, and angel can't see past his own opinion of himself.

Angel couldn’t tell how long he’d been wandering around. He’d seen so many alleys, streets, clubs, and everything mixed together that it didn’t really matter anymore. The faces in his reflections never left him, keeping just enough distance to make him feel like he could outrun them, before succumbing to the sobs they ripped from him. He could only vaguely remember slumping against a red bricked wall, before everything went black again. Hopefully the last of however many black outs he was going to have during this trip.

\--

The next time Angel came to, he was met with pain, _everywhere_. His head, his limbs, his chest, every part of his being ached with the damage he’d inflicted onto himself during his high. He groaned into the downy pillow beneath his head, breathing becoming laboured as his body caught up with registering the amount absolute _shit_ he felt. 

Several minutes passed before he was finally able to open his eyes, keeping them downcast in case a wave of nausea tried to assault him. Which it did. Taking a couple moments to steady his breathing and stomach, he began to take note of himself and the room he was in.

He felt dirty for sure, but certainly not as disgusting as he figured he would’ve been after having been loose on the streets for however long. Whatever john picked him up must’ve decided to clean him up a little before having their way with him. Not that it mattered much to him, par for the course down in Hell. 

Next he took note of the pleasantly heavy quilt atop him, and the bed he lay on. Far too small to fit two people, nice but not overly extravagant. His gaze traveled to the fur skin rug, laid beneath a rather simple coffee table. Up to the plush, comfortable looking loveseat with a lace doily placed along the back. Next to it, a small side table adorned with a lamp. Angel figured he’d landed in the home of some lower level country boy thanks to the decor surrounding him.

Until his eyes landed on the mounted buck head hanging above the couch.

His stomach dropped as he immediately realized where he was. This wasn’t some country raised john’s house, this was _Alastor’s_ place. Which meant he saw him fucked up on more drugs and alcohol than he could even begin to remember. He felt his stomach lurch as the thought of what Alastor’s face must have looked like when he found him. The self imposed nausea only prompted another wave of pain to come beating at the back of his eyes, causing him to squeeze them shut and curl in on himself with a rather pitiful groan. 

He wanted to run again, to get as far away from this man as he could, if only so the next time he faced him he could be presentable. The hangover glued him to the bed though, meaning he’d have to suck up his pride just a little longer to face the last person he wanted to see disappointed in him.

It’s just his luck that his thoughts of the Overlord seemed to summon him. Through the ringing in his ears he could barely hear the soft click of the door as it was opened, followed by the gentle _tap tap taps_ of Alastors shoes on the wooden floor. Angel felt long, clawed fingers brush against his forehead, causing him to crack open a bleary eye to look up his host.

“I see you have finally woken up!” Alastor chimed, drawing a rather pitiful wince from the pornstar. The Radio Demon quieted significantly with his next words, “I have some medication available if you wish to take it, as you seem to be in no fit state to be giving any explanations.” 

As thankful as he was for the softer tone, Angel simply groaned in response, sliding out a shaky hand from underneath himself to silently request the offered medicine. He couldn’t help the soft _”wh- hahn?”_ That left him as he was very carefully sat up. He kept his eyes shut, trying not to end up sick on the demon hovering over him. 

“You must be parched, having slept for so long. I assure you there will be many inquiries coming your way my good fellow. For now, rest.” Angel peeked at the other demon as he was handed a couple of pills and a glass of water. Alastor stood tall as ever; well dressed, unruffled, and _unreadable._

“I will be back in due time to check on you, I have a bit of business to attend to while you straighten yourself out.” He straightened up as he spoke, dusting off some invisible dust from his lapel. “You’d best still be here when I return. I will not stand for my inquiries to be postponed any longer than necessary.” With that, Alastor turned on his heel, leaving just as quickly as he came. 

Angel sat dumbfounded, water and pills in hand. Dizzy with more than just his hangover.

~~

An hour later, Angel found himself able to finally sit up on his own. He still felt slightly sick, and far too dirty for his liking, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He had run his claws though his fur to try and keep it from getting matted worse than it already had. A nice, long, warm shower sounded heavenly, but with no idea of when Alastor was supposed to return he didn’t dare get up to try and find a bathroom. 

He’d ruined his chances with the Overlord enough already.

Instead of allowing himself to sit and wallow in his own spiralling thoughts, Angel decided to take a look around the joint. Carefully, he rose from the bed, taking note of his torn, ragged clothing, if you could still call it clothing at this point. With a rather melodramatic sigh, he elected to ignore the state of his attire for now; instead opting to get a closer look at the quaint, paper covered desk along the far wall. He had overlooked it’s existence in the haze of hangover fueled panic in realizing where he was. 

Angel trailed his fingers along the edge of the desk, careful not to disturb the pages atop it. He noticed that it was made of a durable wood, yet simple in style, much like the rest of the room. The place felt far homier than Angel would have expected it to. His heart ached as he thought of himself and Alastor curling up on a nice couch with a throw blanket over both of them, like his sister and he used to do. He missed those days sometimes, as much as he hated his father and the family business, what that business made him do, Angel always left room in his heart to cherish those quiet moments when the Boss wasn’t around. 

His attention strayed to the papers scattered across the desk, fairly basic papers to say the least. A mixture of contracts, papers yet to be signed, and loose notes. Nothing about the desk really caught his eye, until his gaze landed onto the just barely open right side drawer. With a cursory glance around the room, Angel carefully opened the drawer the rest of the way, revealing a couple of books, and their corresponding journals. 

He picked up the book that seemed to be the most recently used, as well as its journal counterpart. “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd” was the title that stared up at him. Of course Alastor would be into murder-mystery novels. Angel remembered hearing about this particular story on the radio. They had adapted the story to live air, and it threw him through a loop, he really hadn’t expected that ending.

He opened the book to where it seemed Alastor was currently reading, checking over his notes to see if he’d figured it out yet. “Heh doesn't seem he-”

“Find something interesting my dear fellow?” 

“FUCK!” Angel spun on his heel, book and journal falling onto the desk, and immediately stumbled back to lean on the desk himself, the action taking more out of him than he expected. He was greeted with a large grin, and a body far closer to him than he thought was allowed.

“Uhm Al hey. I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to- well...” 

“Not to worry dear, there is nothing of ultimate value you could have found in this room.” Right. He doesn't trust him. He got caught snooping, and now they need to _talk._ “I must say, though, I didn’t figure that you would be the type to find interest in such literature.” Alastor gave him a pointed glance, causing Angel to shiver as if he’d just been drenched in cold water.

_Don’t forget you’re just a whore._

“Ah yeah uh..I heard the radio adaptation for this one way back… It’s pretty interestin’... So uh..” Angel coughed a bit awkwardly, still leaning into Alastor’s desk as the Overlord stared him down, face unchanging. “How exactly did I end up here?” 

“I found you outside my good fellow!” Alastor stepped back from his spot of staring Angel down, whisking his cane out into oblivion before he motioned for Angel to sit on the small loveseat. “I figured you might have enjoyed a better place to sleep, than against the wall of my radio tower!” An obnoxious laugh track followed the statement, and Angel felt himself flush with embarrassment as he slowly made his way to the loveseat. Sinking into the soft cushions made Angel feel rather small as Alastor paced around in front of him.

“Now, Angel, as I am sure you are aware, I have quite a number of questions for you. Since you have the energy to be up and glancing around, I’m sure you’ve the energy to answer by now.” Alastor stopped his pacing, turning to look at Angel expectantly, at the spider’s reluctant nod, he barreled on. “Now for the first inquiry my dear, what, pray tell happened to you. I see you working at a local club I frequent, and then you are gone for three days, putting dear Charlie into her insufferable hysterics, only to come crawling onto my doorstep, looking as if Lucifer himself had run you through the tunnels of this fine city.” 

Angel shrunk slightly in his seat as Alastor listed off his view of the situation, as if preparing himself to scold a misbehaving child. “Well y’see Al...astor…” He added on, seeing the Overlords ears flick irritably at the nickname. “I uh..Had a bit of a bad time after my shift and uh, got a little too into the drift..If you catch my meaning.” 

“I see. So you over indulged, relapsed and then nearly overdosed? Or was all of that screaming you did a part of the process?” Alastor asked, eyebrow cocked as if he had been questioning Angel’s choice of coffee.

“Ah yeah that’s..kinda part of the whole ordeal uh… You stuck around for that?” angel fiddled with his hair self consciously.

“Why of course! I can’t let the hotels star patron end up back in his old ways! Whatever would our dear Charlie think, hm? Well no matter, I suppose you will be finding out soon enough, won’t you? The quicker we get you back the better.” Alastor ended his spiel with a flourish, hands landing cooly behind his back as he eyed the pornstar sitting stiffly on his loveseat. 

“What about those other questions you had? You only asked me two...” Angel gently rubbed his arm, glancing away from that unreadable stare. He was quick to look up as he saw the shadow of Alastor’s form fall over him, eyes quickly meeting with Alastor’s now far closer ones. 

“Do you _want_ me to ask you more questions, Angel?” His voice was low and sultry, and if that tone had been used by anyone else, Angel would have thought they were coming on to him. Angel subtly leaned back, arms crossing protectively over himself. This is by no means the first time someone has leaned over him like this, while he was in nothing more than some torn ‘clothes’, but this was the first time he’d ever felt this vulnerable… this _exposed_ when it happened.

Alastor held the position for a moment, seemingly waiting for the silence Angel provided to end, before simply accepting it as his answer. He straightened up with a nod and the buzz of quiet feedback. “Let’s get you something more appropriate to wear and we can be on our way.” He announced, and with a flourish and the harsh snap of his fingers, Angel was suddenly dressed in basic, black pants and a very concealing red sweater. Angel cautiously accepted the hand that Alastor held out to him, letting out a surprised, and slightly nauseous yelp as he was pulled toward Alastor, through shadow and into the lobby of the hotel.

Angel was barely given time to think, much less react as he was suddenly met with an armful of Charlie. “Angel!! You’re okay!” She cried, squeezing the second life out of him.

“Where have you been?!” Vaggie exclaimed, looking to be on the thin line between pissed and worried. “You go out saying you have to work and then the next we know you’re gone for three days! No call! Nothing!” As Angel opened his mouth to state his case, Alastor interrupted, gently prying Charlie from Angel and leading her away.

“He’s had quite the past few days. Why not allow him to rest and I’ll fill you ladies in!” Alastor added, with a knowing glance over his shoulder, “We should let him get back to his pet that misses him I’m sure!” 

Equal parts thankful and confused by Alastor’s assistance, Angel trudged up to his room in the hotel. He slipped in and immediately fell to his knees to greet Fat Nuggets, who came squealing happily at seeing his daddy back home after so long. Angel hugged the pig close, petting him. “Man Nuggs, you’re really gettin’ big, huh? I won't be able to carry you anymore here soon.” Angel chuckled softly, scooping up his pig, and opting to simply let the bed greet him for now. He could shower in the morning. 

He curled up on his plush comforter, cradling Fat Nuggets and sighing as the events of the day flitted through his mind. Alastor really did see him as nothing more than what everyone else did. Caught up in wondering why Alastor’s opinion hurt so thoroughly, Angel failed to notice how the shadows moved along his bedroom wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I'm aiming to try and make the chapters a little longer for you guys, and my day to days a little hectic. So bear with me and I'll keep getting these out for you guys as consistently as I can! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This fic isn't finished yet! I'll be adding tags as they come up.


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